


i should have been home yesterday (yesterday)

by thewalrus_said



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Consensual Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 12:40:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20097370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewalrus_said/pseuds/thewalrus_said
Summary: A chance meeting on a train puts rich man's son Viktor Nikiforov in more of an adventure than he'd bargained for when he got on the train.





	i should have been home yesterday (yesterday)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Riki and Mel for looking over this for me! This was born from the chaos embers of Kaz's server.

Viktor settled back into his seat with a sigh, letting the paperwork drift from his fingers back into his lap. He should probably stow it in his briefcase properly, but that would mean admitting that he was not going to get any work done this trip, and he wasn’t quite prepared for that yet. He let his gaze wander around the train carriage.

He didn’t know what his father was _ thinking, _ making him go off alone like this. Viktor’s boredom had been the downfall of many of his pursuits, and sending him alone to survey and assess their satellite farm out West seemed like a recipe for trouble. Viktor had argued when his father first suggested it, but Yakov hadn’t listened, just raised his voice until it drowned out Viktor’s, yammering on about _ responsibility _ and _ making a name for yourself among the staff. _ Viktor sighed again. Eight hours on a train to survey a dusty, underperforming farm, and then get back on the train again. He was only two hours in and ready to string himself up, just for a change of pace.

The only saving grace was the man seated a few benches down on the other side of the carriage. He was uncommonly beautiful, even if he’d been in the city instead of miles away from civilization. His clothes were workmanlike, unbefitting the glory of his face, but they were clean and well-made, and showed off the fineness of his muscles as well as any clothing could. Viktor kept letting his gaze dance over in his direction, snapping back to his papers when the man’s eyes were inevitably trained in his direction. Out of curiosity, Viktor looked again. Warm brown eyes once again met his own, but instead of looking away, Viktor let himself drown in them, as much as he could among a crowded train carriage. The man smiled and looked down at his hands.

Viktor finally gave up half an hour later and stowed the paperwork in his briefcase. He didn’t need to have the details memorized, whatever his father said. All he needed to know was that the farm was not producing the amount of crops and animal goods it should have been. He’d get out to the farm, have a look at _ their _ paperwork, and figure out where the discrepancy was coming from. Viktor had never been good at letting staff go, but from the size of the discrepancy, he rather thought he’d have to. Feeling the man’s gaze back on him, Viktor subtly adjusted his waistcoat and sighed again, looking out the window.

To his surprise, from the corner of his eye he saw the man get up and walk towards him. Viktor turned to watch his approach. The man moved like a dancer, light on his feet, not at all like the farmhand one might expect him to be from his clothes. Viktor offered him a smile as he moved to sit down opposite Viktor. “Hello there.”

“Howdy.” The man smiled back. His voice was warm, with a little bit of a country twang. “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, but I was just sitting over there thinking, I’ve never seen a rich man so bored on a train ride.”

Viktor laughed. “And what makes you think I’m rich?”

The man gave him a look. “Come now. Real leather briefcase, embroidered waistcoat, and manicured hands? I’m not a fool. Whoever you may be, you’re not a poor man.”

Viktor smiled wider. “Very well, I concede your point. And yes, I am quite bored. Are rich men not usually bored on long train rides?”

“Not so obviously.” The man stuck out his hand. “I’m Yuuri, by the way.”

Viktor took it - calloused but warm, he noted. “Viktor. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Yuuri looked Viktor up and down and leant forward. “Well, now that we’re all properly acquainted, can I offer you a proposition?”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. Chris had lent him all sorts of salacious novels over the years, and he found himself eager to hear what proposition this man could make him. “What is it?”

“You see that man at the other end of the carriage? Tall hat, blond hair?”

That... wasn’t what Viktor had expected. “I see him.”

“Here in about a quarter of an hour, me and a couple friends of mine are going to kidnap him,” Yuuri said, eyes not leaving Viktor’s face.

Viktor blinked. “Kidnap him?” Yuuri nodded. “Whatever for?”

Yuuri shrugged. “Why does anyone kidnap a rich man? For the money, of course.”

Viktor gaped at him. “But... why tell me?”

“Can’t you guess?” When Viktor shook his head, Yuuri leaned even closer. “Because I can change the plan. With your say-so, we can leave that man to his long, long train ride, and we can take you instead.”

Viktor sat back. “Are you threatening me?”

“I rather thought I was offering you an adventure,” Yuuri said. He still hadn’t taken his eyes away from Viktor’s, had barely even blinked since pointing out his purported target. “It’ll be more interesting than staying on board, I can tell you that, although the excitement of witnessing it might get you through the next hour.”

Shockingly, Viktor found himself considering it. “And what happens if I say yes?”

Yuuri leaned back in his seat. “We take you prisoner. No harm done, I promise you, although I may have to hold a knife to your neck if people follow us.” His eyes dropped down to Viktor’s throat, then back up to his face. “You come with me and my friends all nice and quiet-like, we send a letter to your people, and we have some time to get to know each other properly before the switch.”

“You’ve done this before,” Viktor guessed.

“Taken people hostage? Yes,” Yuuri admitted. “We’re a little practiced in this game, got a bit of a reputation for ourselves. But I’ve never offered it to anyone before, if that’s what you were thinking.”

Viktor regarded him. Yuuri _ looked _ honest, eyes wide and earnest, a small smile tripping about the edges of his lips. Viktor looked out the window, at the dusty scrublands rushing by, and thought about his family’s farm. “No harm will come to me, you promise?” he said, looking back at Yuuri. “My family pays you and you let me go?”

“On my dog’s grave,” Yuuri said. “Not a scratch on you that you don’t want.”

That was an oath Viktor could believe in. “Very well,” Viktor said. “I’m in. What do I have to do?”

Yuuri beamed. Viktor felt his stomach turn over with more than just nerves. “You just sit put, and when I start to tug you around just go where I put you. I won’t hurt you,” he said again, “and neither will any of my friends. That’s not the game.”

“I trust you.”

Yuuri pulled a surprisingly shiny watch from a pocket and consulted it. “Five minutes. My friends’ll come in from either side of the carriage and then I’ll make a scene.”

“Why?” Viktor asked, honestly curious. “Why not just disappear me?”

“In case your family starts looking for verification,” Yuuri said. “We had one mark whose family assumed he’d run away and was extorting them for funds, so we learned to leave witnesses.”

“Makes sense.”

Viktor’s blood was thrumming in his veins, heart pounding faster than it ever had before, even when reading Chris’ novels. In contrast, Yuuri looked calm, gazing out the window like he hadn’t just changed Viktor’s life. The five minutes passed quickly, and then the carriage door behind him opened and a man dressed like Yuuri stepped in. At the other end, Viktor could see another man enter too, and look around like he was expecting someone to be close to him. The man next to Viktor hissed, “What are you doing at this end, Yuuri?”

“There’s been a change of plan,” Yuuri said, and then he stood, grabbing Viktor’s wrist and yanking him upright. “If you don’t mind, ladies and gentlemen,” he said loudly, getting the attention of everyone in the carriage. “Me and my friends will just be taking this fellow along with us! Look scared,” he hissed in a lower voice in Viktor’s ear.

Viktor hoped arousal looked like fear, because that was all he could summon after the casual display of strength Yuuri had just demonstrated. Yuuri tugged him out into the aisle. “If anybody asks,” he called out, “say the Detroit Gang stole this man!” The man behind them opened the door and Yuuri shoved Viktor onto the platform between carriages. The fellow from the other side raced along the aisle and came out after them.

“Yuuri, what do you think you’re playing at?” the first man asked sharply.

Passengers were protected from falling off the platform by two chains running at hip and knee height. Yuuri produced the smallest pair of bolt cutters Viktor had ever seen and set to work on the chains on one side. “Change of plans, like I said, Phichit,” he said, squinting at the top chain. “This man was richer than the other one, and he agreed to come.”

“Agreed to— you mean you _ asked _ him?” Phichit squawked. Yuuri made it through the top chain and set to work on the bottom. “Let Leo do that, he’s quicker.” Yuuri passed the bolt cutters to the second man and stepped back. “There’s a turn up ahead,” he said to Viktor, putting a hand around his elbow. “The train will slow for it. We’ll have to jump. Can you do it?”

Viktor looked ahead and saw the turn. There was a shallow slope of sand running down from the tracks. He gulped and nodded. Below them, Leo got the chain undone and pushed both aside. There was now a gap of a few feet for them to leave.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of explaining this,” Leo said, stashing the bolt cutters in a deep pocket in his pants. “Come on, get ready.”

“We’ll have to be quick,” Yuuri said. “I won’t let go of you, so jump when I do, alright?” His hand stole down Viktor’s forearm until he could wrap his fingers around Viktor’s. Viktor nodded again.

The train started to slow, and ahead Viktor could see the first cars starting to veer around the turn. “Get ready,” Yuuri said. His hand was steady in Viktor’s. In front of them, Leo and Phichit braced themselves. “Three, two, one, _ go!_” Phichit and Leo flung themselves forward, and with a running start, Yuuri and Viktor followed.

The sand was unforgivingly _ hot _ when Viktor made contact with it, but it gave way under his body and the landing wasn’t as hard as he had feared. Yuuri’s hand was still in his, and Yuuri used it to pull him up to standing. Phichit and Leo struggled to their feet as well, brushing sand from their clothes. “See?” Yuuri said. There was color in his cheeks, and he seemed a little out of breath. “Not a scratch, just like I promised.”

Viktor smiled at him. “What now?”

“Now we walk,” Phichit said. “Our camp’s a few miles away.”

Viktor squinted up at the sun. “I wish I’d thought to grab my hat before we left.”

Yuuri frowned and tugged off his outer shirt. “You’re so pale, you’ll burn in a heartbeat. Here.” He offered the shirt to Viktor. “Wrap this around your head, it’ll keep the worst of the sun out of your eyes, at least.”

Viktor reached out and took the shirt, winding it carefully about his head. He had no idea what he looked like by the time he was done, but Yuuri was clearly biting back a smile. No matter. Viktor could see without squinting, and the skin of his face no longer felt like it had been directly applied to a hot frying pan. He could look like a fool for that much.

They walked in relative silence, once the sound of the train had died down behind them. Phichit and Leo kept stealing glances back at Yuuri and Viktor, who were walking together a few feet behind them, but they didn’t say anything, and Yuuri didn’t offer any more information. Viktor idly wished Yuuri were still holding his hand.

Finally, after about two hours’ hard walk, Viktor caught sight of what looked like a camp on the horizon. “Home sweet home,” Yuuri said, when Viktor pointed it out. “It’s not much, but it does for us.”

_ Home sweet home _ turned into a settlement of tents. The biggest one by far was on the outskirts of the settlement and surrounded by a sturdy fence; Viktor could see horses milling about inside. Phichit and Leo led them down what appeared to be the center path to an unassuming beige tent on the other side of camp. Yuuri held the flap open for Viktor and followed him inside.

“Right,” Phichit said. “Business first. Leo, take Yuuri outside and get some answers out of him,” he directed. Leo grabbed Yuuri by the arm and towed him back outside, over Yuuri’s protests. Phichit sat down at the small desk in the tent and gestured to another chair. “You, have a seat. What’s your name?”

“Viktor,” Viktor said. “Viktor Nikiforov.”

Phichit produced a quill and inkwell, a single sheet of rough paper, and an envelope. “And who should we be writing to?”

“Probably my adoptive father, Yakov Feltsman.” He gave Phichit the address, which he dutifully put down onto the envelope. “Is this my ransom note?”

“I’ve got the best penmanship of the group,” Phichit said. “We let Guang Hong do it once and the family turned up with half the requested amount because they couldn’t read his handwriting.”

“Did you let him go home anyway?”

“Yeah. Our error, so we let it slide. Never again. Now hush, I’m working.”

Viktor sat watching Phichit’s quill skate over the paper, line after line spilling out onto the page. After a few minutes, Leo and Yuuri came back in. “Yuuri liked the look of him better than our original mark,” Leo reported. Yuuri blushed. “Hence the change in plan.” Phichit rolled his eyes but kept writing.

“Here,” he said finally, blotting the paper. “Do you think your father will respond to this?” He handed the paper over to Viktor, who scanned it.

“He’ll respond,” Viktor said. “You could ask for double that, honestly, he can afford it.”

Phichit looked impressed and took the paper back. He carefully scratched out the _ 500 _ he had written and penned _ 1000 _ over it. “Thanks for the tip.”

“My pleasure.”

“If we’re done with Viktor, he’s had a rough day,” Yuuri said, his blush finally fading. “I’ll take him to get some food and some new clothes.”

Phichit nodded and Viktor stood, following Yuuri out of the tent. “Sorry about him,” Yuuri said under his breath. “He likes to get the note off as fast as possible, so we get the money faster.”

“I respect that,” Viktor said. “Did you say something about new clothes?”

“You stick out like a sore thumb, in your rich man’s getup,” Yuuri said. “We’ve got a few old things that might be in your size. Clothes first, then food. I’m starved.”

There were indeed clothes in Viktor’s size, and before too long he was clad as Yuuri was, in clean, well-made workman’s clothes. “Do they suit me?” he asked, trying to get a line of sight on his own rear end.

When he looked back at Yuuri, Yuuri was blushing again. “You look great,” he said. “Come on, I’ll show you the mess tent.”

The mess tent was in the middle of the settlement, and at this stage of the afternoon business was clearly tapering off. Yuuri shows Viktor how to serve himself and they took their meat and potatoes together at a table in the back. “I’ll introduce you to everyone tomorrow,” Yuuri said as they ate. “You may get co-opted into helping out around camp.”

“I’m happy to help,” Viktor said. “I’ve never worked before, not like you’ll need here, but I’m willing to learn.” Yuuri smiled at him. Viktor went back to his potatoes, warmed through.

Viktor did get volunteered for some work the next morning, by a good-natured man named Takeshi who claimed him for the kitchens. “You’ll buckle under the hard labor outside, not to mention burn,” Takeshi said, clapping a big hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “Stay inside with me and the food. It smells better in here anyway.”

Yuuri spent his days working with the horses, Takeshi told him, and Viktor had the pleasure of serving him lunch when the time came. Yuuri was rumpled and smelled like horse manure, but his skin was sun-golden and his grin wide, and Viktor couldn’t help smiling helplessly back at him. “Oh, I see how it is,” Takeshi said, laughing. “Come on, Viktor, we’ve got lots of other people to feed.” Viktor felt his face heat, and he quickly went back to serving out portions of stew.

His days quickly fell into a routine. Takeshi roused him from his tent a few hours before dawn to help with breakfast (Yuuri always took two scoops of egg and a stack of toast), and Viktor barely had time to eat his own before it was time to start getting lunch ready. (Yuuri was always at the front of the line for lunch, with a smile just for Viktor.) Then they took a break, usually for a quick nap through the hottest part of the day, and then it was time to start preparing dinner. Viktor didn’t have to serve dinner, and he took his at a table with Yuuri and Phichit, where they both heaped praises on his head for the delicious food. (Phichit was clearly exaggerating, but Yuuri seemed to mean it every time.) Then, as the day got dark, everyone would gather outside around a big bonfire, and chat and drink until it was time for bed.

It was a good routine. Viktor was fond of it.

Two weeks in, there was a surprise at the bonfire. After some cajoling, Leo pulled out a guitar, and he and Phichit did a rousing rendition of several songs Viktor would _ never _have heard in the city. Everyone was laughing and cheering, and Viktor found he had to press closer than usual to Yuuri to hear his words. “Leo doesn’t play much,” Yuuri said in Viktor’s ear. “He’s shy about it, has to get a little drunk before he’ll let people hear him.”

“He’s wonderful, though,” Viktor said back, head bent close to Yuuri’s. “Is there ever dancing?”

Yuuri pointed across the fire, where two men were indeed standing up and starting to move. Guang Hong had produced a tambourine from somewhere or other, and now there was the ringing of bells alongside the twanging of strings. “Dance with me,” Viktor said.

“What?”

Viktor put his mouth right to Yuuri’s ear. “Dance with me, I said.”

Yuuri looked at him. “Do you even know how to dance, city boy?”

Viktor stood and held a hand out to Yuuri. “Teach me.” Yuuri looked at his hand, then back at his face, and let Viktor pull him up.

Yuuri, Viktor quickly learned, was a _ fantastic _ dancer, never mind the fact that Viktor had very little basis for comparison. His breath was quickly gone, stolen from his lungs as Yuuri tugged him closer and pushed him out and spun him around. They were both laughing, and a space cleared around them as Yuuri danced him around the fire. Finally, six songs later, Yuuri pulled Viktor to a quiet corner and they caught their breath. “You’re a quick study,” Yuuri said, still laughing a little bit.

“You’re a wonderful teacher,” Viktor said, studying him.

Yuuri was, as Viktor had previously noted, uncommonly beautiful in the light of day, but lit by the golden waves of firelight, he was otherworldly. Viktor couldn’t stop himself touching; he reached out and put a hand to the side of Yuuri’s face, and wrapped one around his hip. “Yuuri,” he said. “Can I?”

Yuuri’s eyes grew wide and dark. “I’ve been wishing you would,” he said.

Viktor had never done this before, but it was surprisingly easy to lean forward and fit his mouth to Yuuri’s. He’d been slightly worried about aiming, but Yuuri adjusted as he moved, and their lips came together perfectly. Yuuri threw his arms around Viktor’s neck and pulled him in closer.

Viktor didn’t know what he was doing but it was clear Yuuri had at least some experience, and Viktor quickly found himself out of control of the kiss. Yuuri’s mouth moved against his like they were both dying, and Viktor clung to him, desperate not to fall behind. Yuuri’s tongue was a revelation in Viktor’s mouth, the best taste he’d ever encountered, and the stutters of his breath were the finest music.

They were broken apart after several long minutes by loud wolf-whistles and cheers from behind them. Yuuri pulled away, flushing, and flapped a hand at their audience (the other was still clenched around Viktor’s elbow). “Come with me,” he whispered to Viktor, and led him off down the path towards his own tent.

They didn’t sleep that night, and Viktor was late to breakfast duty. Takeshi clapped him on the shoulder with a knowing grin and didn’t say anything about it.

Viktor’s routine stayed the same as before, but now he spent his nights in Yuuri’s tent, and every time he handed Yuuri a plate of food he got a chaste kiss over the bench for his trouble. Leo’s guitar stayed out for a few more nights and Viktor got better at dancing, to the point where Yuuri let him lead for a few songs. Honestly, Viktor preferred following. There was much more of a chance of Yuuri dipping him in his strong arms if Yuuri was leading.

Each day with Yuuri was a miracle. As one week slipped into another, Viktor grew ever more aware of the date. The night before Viktor’s handoff was meant to happen, he lay in Yuuri’s arms, both of them desperately awake. “Maybe no one will come,” he said. “Maybe my father won’t send the money.”

“Viktor,” Yuuri sighed, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “They always come when they say they will, and your father sent a reply days ago. You know that.”

“But maybe he’ll change his mind,” Viktor said. He pushed himself up to his elbows and kissed Yuuri, long and lingering. “Maybe I’ll be able to stay.”

When Yuuri opened his eyes, they were impossibly sad. “You were never going to stay, city boy,” he said, trailing a finger down Viktor’s face. “You belong back with your family.”

“I belong with you,” Viktor insisted. Yuuri didn’t answer, but kissed him, and drew his body down on top of Yuuri’s.

It was a full day’s ride to the switch point, the ruins of a city built a ways away from where the current city had thrived. Yuuri, Phichit, and Leo came to see him off, Viktor (clad in his old clothes) riding behind Yuuri on one horse. Viktor tucked his cheek against the back of Yuuri’s neck and tried not to think about parting.

There was a carriage already waiting for them when they arrived. As the four of them dismounted, Viktor sliding into Yuuri’s waiting arms, the door opened and Chris emerged. “Hello, Viktor,” he called across the road to them. “Are you well?”

“Well enough,” Viktor called back. “My father sent you in his stead?”

“His health’s not been well this past month, and Yura was deemed too unreliable,” Chris replied. “So he asked me to step in. I was happy to do it.”

Phichit moved towards him. “You have the money?”

Chris reached into the carriage and removed a bulging sack. “One thousand gold pieces, as requested.” He held it out towards Phichit. “Can I have my friend back, please?”

Phichit took the sack and weighed it in his hand. He turned back towards where Yuuri and Viktor were still huddled together by the horses, face sorrowful. “Viktor, you’re free to go.”

Yuuri gave him a small push and Viktor stumbled a few steps towards Chris, then took a few under his own power. _ No. _ He stopped and ran back to Yuuri, seizing his hands. “Three months from now,” he said, gazing into Yuuri’s eyes. “I’ll be on the same train.”

“Viktor...”

“_Three months,_” Viktor repeated, hands tight around Yuuri’s wrists. “I’ll be there.” After a heartbeat, Yuuri nodded. Viktor pulled him in for a final bruising kiss; Yuuri clutched at him and returned it. It hurt to let go, but finally he did, stepping away and moving towards Chris again.

“I see,” Chris said, once Viktor was close enough for low voices. “I’ll prepare myself for a more permanent goodbye, then.”

“Don’t tell my father?” Viktor asked. “I’ll break it to him myself, when the time comes.” Chris nodded. With a final look back at Yuuri, Viktor climbed into the carriage.

(Three months and one day later, Viktor woke in Yuuri’s arms.)

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](http://thewalrus-said.tumblr.com)!


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